Tuesday, November 12, 2013

There are several close-knit statues---
facing Jerusalem.

Men bang on their knees
like drums.
Mud of the earth
shakes and dries to coal.

O how distinct conversations have awakened me.

O how pitch black desert hair
flips underwater, swims
in the dark of night.

O to see your laughing,
morning face.

Violins wail as ships flutter
to their ocean-floor deaths,
iron consuming iron.
And cosmic awakenings.
Rifts across the skies.

Indigo dreams.
Cotton stained navy
from Israel tears.

O Zion how your empire has
woken me up from a single
beauty, a son in early winter.

How one conversation,
How one single fact.

Has made everything shatter and rearrange.

A man exists, the same lineage as Christ.